Past
by tpchicken
Summary: Det. Munch had a life before SVU, it was called Homicide: Life on the Street. I'm not trying to do a crossover, just extending the time line. Sometimes, things from the past come back to haunt you! COMPLETED! HURRAY!
1. Repeat Dream

Author's note: What little we get to see of Det. Munch on SVU depresses me. Especially when he had such a great history on Homicide. If you like John Munch and haven't seen Homicide:LotS. I recommend you pick it up. Its a great show and a good look into who Munch is.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. It flowed out of my mind yesterday after a week of watching Munchie goodness.

Disclaimer: (of course) I don't own any of these characters, not from Homicide and not from SVU. Someone else does, like Dick Wolf. (Although I think the conspiricy is that Richard Belzer somehow owns Munch, how else could he play that character all over tv?)

"Damnit, I'm having that dream again"

He was laughing, getting out of the police sedan with his partner, Stan Bolander, making fun of the big man's drunk and disorderly conduct the night before. In the back of his mind he was happy, but he knew that that wasn't going to last much longer. They met the other two detectives, Kay Howard and Beau Felton in the coffee shop across the street, they put on the vests and made their way across the street. Munch could hear Kay and beau bickering ahead of him, but as they climbed the stairs, he only wanted to be aware of his surroundings. Apt. 201-that's where they were headed. Beau, Kay and Stan were all ahead of him. He barely had time to realize what was going on when the bullets started flying.

"Stan, STAN!" he screamed, he was slipping, grabbing for his fallen partner.

"Ten Thirteen! Ten Thirteen!"

He couldn't get at his gun, he was in shock, helpless. But when he looked down, it wasn't Beau, Kay and Stan. There in Beau's place lay Elliot Stabler, blood dripping from his mouth. Next to him, where Kay should have been was Stabler's partner, Olivia Benson. She took two bullets to the chest, it didn't even register in her face, she just looked like a child's rag doll. And that wasn't Stan lying there, shot in the head, it was Odafin Tutuola.

"Damnit, not again!" he thought.

He could hear ringing in his ears, not from the gunshots, but somewhere in the distance his stupid cell phone was ringing.

Detective John Munch almost rolled off the bed reaching for the phone in the darkness. The alarm clock flashed 3:31am. He grabbed the phone, hit the button.

"What now?"


	2. New Case

Author's note: I've edit this chapter so the breaks are hopefully easier to see. Also I purposly leave some things out of discription so youcan let you own imagination run wild. Sorry if my spelling stinks, I don't do it well, and spell check stinks!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Would like to meet Richard Belzer though...

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By 4:02am, Det. Munch was sitting shotgun, his partner, Fin, was practically asleep at the wheel. Munch clenched the handle above the door a little tighter, his knuckles turning different shades of white and red.

"Look, I realize that driving is still a feat you are trying to accomplish when you are cohearent" started Munch, "but I would appreciate not dying today at your hands in this car."

"Hey, I'm keeping it between the lines," growled Fin.

"Yeah, the question is which two?"

Eight minutes later, they arrived on the scene.

"What've we got?"

"Young boy, probably 10, caucausian. Definatly a dump job, looks like his clothes were taken off, then hastily put back on - his shirt is inside out and backwards and the pants weren't fastened."

"Rape/Homicide?" questioned Munch.

"Probably, we'll check for fluids at the autopsy."

"Who found him?" asked Fin.

"Neighbor, over there, he was taking the trash out when he found the body in the alley. Says he knows the boy and his family."

"Thanks, we'll be in touch"

The neighbor, a man in his early thirties, was obviously shaken up. He sat on the steeps of his building, staring into space.

"Sir, Detectives Tutuola and Munch. May we ask you a couple of questions?"

"Yeah, sure"

"They say you know the boy?"

"Yeah, Martin Lewis - he lives in a building 2 blocks down. I have a son his age - they're inseperable. The Lewises are great parents - they're going to be crushed."

"When was the last time you saw Martin?" asked Munch.

"Yesterday, he came over to see if Alex, my son, could play, but I said no - we were having an evening together with family."

"Do you remember what clothes Martin was wearing?" asked Fin.

"I think what he has on now - oh God!"

"I'm so sorry - here's our card, we'll probably need to talk again."

"Yeah, what ever I can do, he was such a great kid!"

Munch turned and walked with his partner. "Let's go tell the parents."

"Yeah, my least favorite part of this job."

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Mrs. Lewis was sobbing; her husband gently, but protectively had one arm around his distressed wife.

"We'll need you to come id the body," Fin was explaining.

"Mrs. Lewis, do you remember what your son was wearing when he left the house yesterday?" asked Munch.

She furrowed her brow, "Blue polo shirt, khaki pants and an ugly tan beaded belt that I couldn't get him to part with."

Munch shot Fin a look that they both knew meant, "Where's the belt?"

"We're terribly sorry for your loss."

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As they walked back towards the car at 7:46am, the both knew that they weren't headed back to their beds.

"So," started Fin, "where's the belt?"

"Find the belt, find the perp."


	3. Deep Thoughts

Authors Note: Baltimore's nickname is Charm City, so if I use those interchangeably…

The rest, you know the drill

Desperately needing a cup of something, ANYTHING, with caffeine in it, Munch and Fin dragger their weary bodies into the squad room.

"What've we got people?" bellowed Cragen as he made his sweeping walk towards the board.

Munch let Fin fill them in on what they knew as he walked to his locker and checked his mail. Four messages on pink slips of papers - two from ex-wives probably demanding more money, a memo reminding him of the annual policeman's ball - a function he vowed never to attend again after the fiasco only known as the Disaster of '98, and 3 small manila envelopes that he knew he'd never open. He quickly and quietly took them to his desk, unlocked and opened the bottom drawer and shoved them in the back with all the others. Then managed to shut the drawer and replace the lock before the captain finished his questions about the case.

Stabler and Benson were reporting on their canvas of the neighborhood and subsequent search for past pedophiles registered through the database. Munch glanced at his partner to make sure he was listening and taking notes, and when he was satisfied that he was, allowed his mind to wander back to what was haunting him in the locked bottom drawer of his desk.

He started receiving them a month ago. Small manila envelopes, each one had an article pertaining to the attempted murder of 3 Baltimore homicide detectives, each envelope coming form a different location in Charm City. At first he didn't think much of it, it had happened a long time ago - a simple search and seizure gone horribly wrong because of a clerical error. They should have been at apt. 210 - instead they ended up at 201 - a mistake that almost cost 3 of his fellow detectives their lives. And yet, as Stan, his ex-partner, loved to point out, all those bullets flew and not one hit Munch. Some how he'd gotten lucky - damn lucky. He never felt guilty about it, he never needed to. Everyone pulled through; the shooter was caught, but later released, only to be found with a bullet through his brain.

Munch wasn't guilty of that either. He wanted to be though. He wished he had though of it, done it first. But he didn't. He was at the hospital, where he should've been. But he wished he had done it. That's maybe why during the investigation he sounded a bit guilty, acted a bit guilty for the hope that they'd think he had done it. He was almost a bit sad when they didn't charge him with it. Almost sad, because prison didn't sound like THAT much fun.

So he didn't think much about the articles in their small manila envelopes. Until one day, it wasn't an article - it was a note, printed from a computer that simply read…

"THIS TIME, I WON'T MISS."

And reading that sent shivers up and down his spine. He stopped opening his mail, he didn't want to know what the others said, but at the same time, he was frightened. Frightened because he had no idea what was to happen next.

The phone ringing snapped him out of his deep thoughts.

"Munch, yeah, mmm, okay, great, thanks."

"What's up?" asked Benson.

"The ME has got a DNA match off the boy - a past pedophile named Brian Bosco."

"Great!" said Cragen, " Let's get an address for this guy and the 4 of you can go pick him up."

A sudden desa vu feeling swept over Munch. That day, back in Baltimore, they were supposed to be picking up a pedophile and searching for the dead boy's belt. And now, years later it was happening all over. His hands started to feel cold and clammy and he sincerely hoped no one would notice if his face went 4 shades paler than normal.

"John, you okay?" Benson came strolling towards him, as he wracked his brain for an excuse to his sudden physical condition.

"I bet you two haven't even had breakfast yet," came a welcomed response from Stabler.

"Yeah, I'm starvin'," replied Fin.

"We'll get Bosco's address and the warrant, and meet you two at Belzers - get some food, you need it!"

"Yeah, thanks," said Munch. He could only hope that it wasn't their last meal.


	4. Break In

Authors Notes: Yeah I gave you three ch. at once, and even though they're ready, I want to leave you in suspense for awhile. HE HE HE. And I apoligize if the breaks in the last chapters weren't very clear. Its been a LONG time since I posted a story here, and I'm still adjusting on how to make it easier to read. Concequently, that made ch. 2 kinda hard to understand. I'll fix it later!

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Munch's had was shaking so bad that he dare not pick up the cup in front of him for fear of giving himself away. After they had finished eating, they sat there in silence for nearly 10 minutes waiting for Stabler and Benson. It was unusal for them. Normally Fin and Munch never shut up - usually trading insults. It was how they showed they cared. John knew why he wasn't talking. He felt like if he opened his mouth, his breakfast would come up instead. He was sitting there, willing his goof to digest when they arrived.

"We've got it - 42nd street - apartment 201," announced Stabler.

The hair on the back of Munch's neck stood up. "201 - are you sure? Not two-one-zero, but two-zero-one!"

Benson was the first to reply "Yeah John, two-zero-one. You have some secret info that we don't know?"

"No, no! I just want to be absolutely certain that mistakes don't happen. I'm the primary-remember? I'm the primary and I'm going in first!" He wasn't going to let any more detectives in his squad get shot - if someone was going down it'd be him and only him.

"Calm down John," said Fin "We know the drill, we ain't no rookies."

"Fine, let's do this then." Determined, Munch stood up and walked out, leaving the three confused detectives behind.

They were suited up and ready to go, but it didn't reassure Munch in the lease. Last time they wore vests - they were suppose to be safe. Too bad there are no guarantees in life.

Slowly the 4 detectives and 2 Uniforms crept up the stairs. Ahead of the pack, Munch thanked whatever God was watching them that apt. 201 was away from the stairwell. Still, there was always the chance for bullets to start flying. He was just sure that around any corner awaited certain death.

At the door the 6 positioned themselves - when each had given Munch the go ahead nod, he began. "Brian Bosco - open up - this is the police!"

Behind the door Munch could hear movement, his temples tensed slightly.

"Brian Bosco - give yourself up now or we're coming in!"

When he was satisfied that this guy wasn't coming quietly, he gave the signal and one of the uniforms batted the door down. Munch inhaled what he hoped wasn't his last breath and stormed through the door. But he wasn't prepared for what he found. There to his right, trying to open and climb out a window was Bosco.

"Don't even think about it," yelled Benson, as her and Stabler ran passed Munch and wressled him to the ground.

To his left, on the floor crying was another young boy - his shirt off, his shorts torn. Slightly out of character, Munch holstered his gun and ran to comfort the crying boy. Sometime during this movement, he let go of his own fears. Nobody he knew was getting shot today. He held the small child and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey Munch!" Fin held up a small, tan, beaded belt for his partner to see. "Find the belt, find the perp!"


	5. Busload of Faith

Authors note: If you haven't notice, I've made small changes here in there, just so the story flows better for the eyes. This is my favorite chapter so far. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm poor, so obvously this stuff ain't mine.

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It was 10:14pm. Inside his apartment, Detective John Munch was having a victory party of sorts. He was the only guest at this party and it certainly wasn't going to cause a ruckus that would wake his neighbors. On the contrary, that was normally his neighbor's job, causing the noise to wake the dead.

But tonight was his party. In his cd player was Lou Reed's "Busload of Faith" on repeat because the song reminded him of old times - when he was still sure that somewhere, someone would be the love of his life - unlike now, where 4 divorces and 7 yrs in SVU had sucked most of his hope dry. But tonight was for the good times - a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders when this case closed. He was sure that tonight the nightmares would end.

He sat on his couch in his old black bathrobe, flipping through one of the many magizines he received that were full of pointless information that probably interested only him. He half sang, half mumbled the words of the song playing over the speakers. The whistling sound from the kitchen reminded him that the water for his tea was ready.

He got up and headed towards the kitchen. Halfway there he did a little spin and shook. "Oh yeah, I've still got it" he thought.

Between the whistling of the kettle and the music playing, he was surprised to hear the noise coming from the fire escape. His back was facing the kitchen window that looked out over the scenic alleyway. "Darn alley cats" he thought. Then it all happened in slow motion.

John picked up the kettle and turned towards the window, recognizing a shape that defiantly wasn't a cat. The sound of the shot blast and the bullet cut through the air, but there was no time to react. Blinding pain shot through his shoulder - hot pain engulfed the left side of his body.

His mind was cloudy, confused. He couldn't find the kettle, it didn't matter. Somewhere he could hear the sounds of the shooter, but he couldn't tell what direction the man was going. "Where's my phone!" was his only thought - his only goal.

The couch -the end table! His strength gave out as he streched and reached the phone. He lost his glasses and couldn't see. He fumbled and hit the redial. He had no idea who he was calling, but it was ringing and that's all that mattered.

One Ring

Two Rings

Three - Please Pickup!

Fou - "Fin"

"Fin…"

"John? Is that you? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Fin…" Only the sounds of heavy breathing - he had to tell him!

"shot!…………….hel…………." the world went black.


	6. Decisions

Authors note: Wow I'm just realizing how bad my typing is. Sorry for any errors, I'm doing my best to slowly re-edit things that are already posted. Anyways, thanks for the reviews, I'm having a lot of fun writing this and I'm glad it shows.

Disclaimer: See afore mentioned statements. :>D

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"Just lift that left arm a little higher Mr. Munch," the pretty physical theripist said.

"That's Detective Munch," he growled. There would've been a time when he would've hit on her, but not now, he wasinjured and feeling old and grumpyActually the thing that hurt the most right now was his pride.

Whoever he was - he was a lousy shot. Munch sustained minimal damage to his left shoulder and minor burns to his left side when he dropped the kettle and spilled water down himself. Had he lost more blood, it could've been worse, but luckily, Fin had been close by and got there quickly.

"You're free to go today Detective Munch. We'll see you in two days."

"Super, I can't wait," at least he hadn't lost his sarcasm.

Fin stood up in the waiting room when John walked out. Munch could see in his partner's face that he was trying to show sympathy, but what he really wanted to do was make fun of him.

"Are you sure you want to go home?" Fin asked gingerly, avoiding Munch's eyes.

"Of course - home is where my stuff is - whether I get shot there or not. They headed out of the hospital towards the parking garage. "Did you find my glasses? This old pair is making my head hurt."

"No man, the way we figure - the dude watched you struggle until you passed out - kicked the rest of the kitchen window in, grabbed your glasses, then took off out your balcony and down the fire escape."

"So he shot me for my glasses - you know they have these things now called Eye Masters, why doesn't he try there instead. Those kind of shops are everywhere. Hell - if he needed them so badly, I would've gladly just given him them, he didn't have to shoot me!"

"I don't think he's seeing impared, you…" Fin swallowed an insult directed at his partner, "I think he wanted a trophy."

"Well now that he has them, maybe he'll see better enough to shoot me in the head or the heart instead of my shoulder," Munch spat back.

Fin unlocked the passenger side for his wounded friend, then walked around and got in the car himself. He put the key in the ignition, sat back, and let out a sigh.

"What's wrong with you man? You were acting a little un-Munch-like and then you got shot. You've got the whole squad freaking out." Fin looked at Munch and Munch looked back at him, and for the first time he saw every worry, sorrow, and fear in the older man's eyes - for a brief second Munch let his guard down and he knew what had to be done.

"Fin - drive to the station house - its time to unlock the bottom drawer."


	7. Revealed

Author's note: Thanks for all ya'll's support! I've really grown to appreciate how hard it is to write. On the one side, I want to get it out on paper, but on the other, I don't want to be untrue to any character, especially Munch. So it took a bit to solidify the next 3 chapters, thank goodness for episodes ondvd. That's all I have to say! I hope you enjoy and I hope I did them justice. So without further ado...

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When Munch and Fin entered the squad room, they were greeted with an akward silence, as if the others weren't comfortable in the situation. Munch quickly guessed that nobody expected to see him back this soon, but since he was there, they weren't sure if they should act like nothing happened or avoid eye contact at all costs.

The moment was broken by Captain Cragen storming across the room. "Fin! Why the hell did you bring him back here! He's not cleared to come back to work yet!"

"So clear me Capt.," exclaimed Munch, "because I feel fine - really!"

Cragen, Stabler, and Benson eyed him skeptically. Fin had sat down at his desk and shoved his nose in the paperwork lying there. John could hear him absent-mindedly shuffling papers. This was the signal that Fin wouldn't be the first to speak and defend his partner, but if convinced, he was listening and willing to cover Munch's back.

"Look," started Munch, "If you thinking I'm going home right now - forget it. I know how the NYPD works - I'm sure half of my apartment still looks like a crime scene. I doubt going back there would be very comfortable at the moment. Besides, I have something I think you all will want to see."

Munch sat down at his desk and started to unlock his bottom drawer. The other 4 took this as their cue to come closer and get a better look at what Munch was about to show them. John was secretly grateful when Fin bent down and helped to pull the stacks of envelopes from the drawer. He didn't want to admit it, but his shoulder twinged a bit, it probably wasn't a good idea to lift anything at the moment.

He looked up and saw Benson, here eyes wide with surprise as she ran her finger through the identical envelopes. "What is all this?" she asked Munch quizzically.

"Well, at first they were just articles from a police shooting, one against my fellow detectives," Munch got quieter, "One I kinda witnessed."

He had never told them before. He felt that his past should remain there - in the past. Oh sure, he complained about his ex-wives and about JFK and all his other conspiracies and eccentricties, but this was different. Those things were public knowledge. The shooting had affected him personally. He didn't like to talk about things like that. So he had never mentioned it before - just like he never mentioned his father's suicide.

His coworkers scanned the articles. "So what's the deal then?" asked Stabler.

Well, then this one came," replied Munch. He held up the paper for all to see.

"THIS TIME,I WON'T MISS"

He could tell by the looks on their faces, that they were reacting the same way he did when he first read it. "You were being threatened, and you didn't say anything?" Stabler angrily accused.

"Probably being stalked too," mentioned Fin.

Munch gave him the look - the one that means, "you're joking right."

"I doubt it," Munch replied, "look all these letters are coming from different spots in Baltimore. Check out the postage marks."

"Yeah, but you were shot in New York!" snapped Fin.

"Alright!" Cragen took control, "Let's get gloves on and sort through these letters. John, how many did you open?"

"Twelve."

"Okay - it looks like this guy has been busy - there has to be at least 60 or 709 more of these. Let's get them open and see what else this guy had to say, and then we'll take them down to the lab and hopefully get some prints or DNA or something. In the meantime - I'll get Huang down here and see if we can't get a profile on this wacko - maybe figure out why he thought it'd be a good idea to torment one of my detectives. Alright people! Let's get moving!"

Everyone flipped into work mode. Suddenly it wasn't about him, it was about a case - one they desperately wanted to solve.


	8. Explainations

Sorry this took a couple of days to post! I typed it last Friday, and forgot that just typing doesn't automatically mean that it posts - whoops! Thanks for the reviews too. I'd just like to take a moment to say that whoever came up with the whole, tv on dvd is my hero. And the man that has all my money. 6 out of the 7 seasons of Homicide:lots are out, and its fun to see the Munch before SVU, he's a little different, but you can also see where he's coming from. There's a couple epies on suicide where he doesn't mention his father, but you can totally tell he's dealing with something. I enjoy all the times he got (thought he was going to get) shot at. That squad had bad luck. If you're poor like me, you might try and rent the dvds, I found it a good deal, until I decided I had to have them all! Okay, sorry for the ramble. On with the show.

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They had cleared off a large wall in the break room. The usual posters had been replaced with copies of all the letters sent to Munch. They had created a quazi - timeline of sorts. The maniac had started with the articles of the shooting and had found every article that had probably been written about Munch since that time. Articles from charm City and the Big Apple lined the wall, intersperced with comment written by the perp or pointless trivia that he had sent, like he was trying to prove that he knew everything about Munch.

John had found the whole experience quite surreal and at times embarrassing. Especially the article about the Hippie Daze photos that had ended up in the art gallery across from the station back in Baltimore, complete with picture.

"Man, as if the time you explained it wasn't bad enough - now I've actually seen it!" complained Fin, "That image is engraved on my brain."

"That sure is a large bit of paper she used to cover you up there," mentioned Stabler.

Benson turned a rosy shade of red and couldn't help but giggle. She tried to stifle it for John's sake, but it was too funny to see him that way.

"Yes, ha ha, go ahead and get a laugh in at my expense - everyone else in the world has," a dejected Munch said.

Now, the four sat, watching Dr. Huang pace back and forth as he studied their masterpiece on the wall.

"He defiantly doesn't like you Detective Munch, but at the same time, he seems to be quite obsessed with knowing everything about you," started Huang.

Murmers of "duh" and "you think?" mingled with "he could have found someone a bit more interesting" erupted from the peanut gallery.

"But," Huang turned and looked at John, "I don't think he wants you dead."

"Gee - he could've fooled me," said Munch, "I thought the bullet through my shoulder was a big death threat,"

"Yeah! And what about this?" Benson pointed to the 'I won't miss' threat.

"Dude did miss, " added Fin "Munch is still alive."

"You're wrong," replied Huang, "He didn't miss. If I'm not mistaken, Det. Munch was shot, the bullet connected with his flesh. If the shooter wanted to do more than that he could have. According to the reports Det. Munch was an easy second shot. The shooter could've come through the window, taken a second shot and it would've been over with. Instead he watched you and then stole your glasses. This man doesn't want you dead, it would ruin all his fun."

"Why did he take the glasses?" Stabler asked.

"A trophy probably," continued Huang, "Something he could look back on and remember that he outsmarted Det. Munch. My guess is that's what its mostly about - proving that he's smarter than you are. He's trying to taunt you."

"Well how do we find him then?" Cragen asked, entering the room and the conversation.

Huang started, "This man is probably know to Det. Munch. Maybe someone he put away - either here or in homicide. Its not the best answer, but I'd say start looking at all you old cases - starting from the date of this shooting." Huang pointed to the article on the homicide detectives' shooting.

"You're joking," Munch said in amazement, "You're talking over 10 years of cases. Not to mention that my case load in homicide was triple what I do here!"

"Let's get started then," said Cragen, "Divide it up. I'll call Baltimore and have the files we need sent here."

"Oh, they're going to really love me down there now!" thought Munch.


	9. Night and Day

Well folks, I think we're about done here. I got a request for longer chapters, so I think I can finish this out with this and one more. I'm glad to add to theMunchie goodness! I've got two more story ideas in my head. So hopefully the fun can continue! Til then...

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They had spent hours going through case files. All afternoon and into the evening, they flipped pages looking for someone suspicious that could've held a grudge against Munch. The problem was - unless they were already dead - almost everyone fit that profile.

Stabler had bowed out at 6:28pm to meet his kids for a school play. Benson excused herself around 8:02pm for something she described as personal, meaning a hot date. Cragen had bared himself in his office at 10:37pm and had turned the lights out. Fin had waited about another hour, then got up and demanded to take John home.

John had made an excuse that he wanted to finish this one case file and then he'd hail a taxi. Fin made him promise and swear on his grandmother's grave that that was what he'd do. Then he threatened John with every vudoo curse he could get his hands on, plus a severe beating of his bony white butt if he found out that John had stayed. John promised.

John lied. At 1:05am, he was still reading. This was important to him. He poured another cup of tea, and attempted to concentrate. Inwardly he admitted that this was harder than he thought. He had been shot just under a week before, but he had convinced himself to pull the all-nighter anyways. Besides - he had done it so many times before. In homicide he had secretly idolized his partner, Stan Bolander, but Stan never did any grunt work. It had always been up to Munch, staying up late researching, and Stan always got the glory in the end. Munch didn't mind, Stan had deserved it.

It was a role he accepted when he came to SVU. Sitting for hours cataloging evidence - pictures or videos of perverts doing horrible things to innocents. Images that were now seared into his mind, into his memories. They reminded him of his own past - of things he wanted to forget.

He erased those thoughts and continued the task at hand. He had done those things for them; he could do it now for himself.

Sometime around 3:14am, he had fallen asleep at his desk. He awoke several hours later feeling incredibly stiff and sore - especially his left shoulder. "I hate this damn bullet hole already" he thought. His mind was kind of fuzzy as he struggled to remember where he was and why he was there, when a familiar voice snapped him back to reality.

"Oh John, please tell me you weren't here all night," Benson stared at him accusingly. Stabler stood right behind her. John suddenly felt like the kid with his hand in the cookie jar when mom and dad got home.

"Get up, we're taking you home," said Stabler.

"No way," replied Munch, "There are more files to be read, and the ones from Balto haven't even shown up yet. I'm fine." He was lying through his teeth and it showed.

"No excuses Munch - now move it before Cragen or Fin finds out and your butt is really in trouble!" Stabler grabbed one arm and Benson grabbed the other and forced him away from his desk. It wasn't until his body hit the back seat of the sedan that he realized how tired he really was.

"Home Jeeves!" Munch remarked, closed his weary eyes and allowed his head to relax.

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Forty-two minutes later, Stabler was parking the car near John's building. It normally doesn't take that long to get to his apartment, he had chosen it specifically because it was the closest to the station house, and he liked to be near, in case of emergencies, or if someone needed something, like his VCR. But traffic had been worse than ever. John secretly didn't mind. It wasn't that he wasn't looking forward to getting back to his own bed, but the feeling of going back somewhere that something bad happened and knowing once you got there you were helpless to change the situation. On the other hand, he was so tired.

Stabler and Benson had been giving him a lecture most of the way there about the fact that he wasn't so young anymore and he should really take it easy. Like he didn't know that already. He had started to notice that he was being treated differently. Sometime, if something happened in the middle of the night, Stabler and Benson would call Fin in, but not John, claiming that Munch deserved a little extra sleep. He wasn't as young as he use to be, he couldn't run after perps anymore, but he wasn't dead yet, and last time he checked, he was still the better marksman. On the other hand, he was kind of tired of being shot at.

Munch sighed inwardly to himself as Stabler helped him out of the back seat. The two had insisted that they walk him in, even though he had pointed out that he was a big boy and could take care of himself. They were making him feel vunerable, and he didn't like that.

They walked through the front door and Munch went to check his mail. Sure enough a weeks worth of bills and junk were shoved in his box. He struggled to pull it all out. Just then movement was heard at the top of stairs leading to the elevator. All three detectives tensed up and turned around. It turned out only to be John's noisy neighbor. "Hey jerk off! Tell your cop friends to stop stomping in and out of your apartment, they're rude and this place ain't no revolving cop hotel. They need to get their own place!" the guy started in.

"Excuse me? Who the.." Stabler started but the guy cut him off. His neighbor barreled down the stairs and out the door yelling about not having time for rude pigs. He jammed his shoulder into Benson as he passed.

"That's it," cried Stabler, and started to go after him, but John stopped him.

"Just forget it El, the guy's a jerk, but he's got his own problems. I hear his wife just left him, and that's never fun, trust me," explained Munch. Sure the guy was a rude SOB, but he was willing to give out breaks for a soon to be divorcee, he had been one once, or four times.

"Hey, he dropped something," said Benson, noticing a large envelope on the ground. "I guess we can just lean it up against his door for him. Come on, let us get you in bed."

They took the elevator to the 9th floor to his apartment, but when they got there John insisted that they need not come in. He let them take a quick sweep of the situation and assured them once again that he'd be fine. They said quick good-byes, and Benson promised to call in 5 hours and give him an update. As John shut and locked the door, he could still hear Stabler and Benson conversing in the hallway. He wasn't really interested in overhearing what they were saying, which was a first for him. Normally he had his ears in every conversation in the squad room. But today he'd give them a break.

Pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt he headed for his bedroom. With every step he got a little bit more drowsy. And thanking himself for the window shades he bought that blocked out all the light, (a must have for any cop that works the night shift), he pulled off his shoes, took off his glasses, and fell into bed.


	10. Deductive Reasoning

Author's note: Okay, so I'm a lier. I need one more chapter after this to finish this story. It turns out that everything I want to add is just too much. This was a hard chapter to write, I'm sorry it took so long, but it was going to be totally different with Munch sleeping through the whole process, but then I felt that was unfair to him. In my defense, the last chapter should be jam packed up cameos and suspense. So I hope you enjoy this chapter and if its not that exciting, just wait...

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He could have sworn his head had just hit the pillow when his phone rang. Bleary eyed, he grabbed his glasses and searched through the pile of clothes he had left on the floor for the phone in his jacket pocket.

"Munch."

"John, it's Olivia. Sorry to wake you up early," Benson's voice rang over the phone.

"Early? How long has it been?" questioned Munch as he scanned his bedroom, looking for the clock.

"Only two hours since we left you, but something's come up and Cragen wants you back. Fin should be there in 5 min. so grab clothes for 72 hours and whatever you need, it looks like you'll be bunking at the station house."

"What? Olivia, what's going on? You're not telling me everything,"

"I'm sorry, there's no time, just get your stuff together, Fin will explain more when he gets there, I've gotta go."

Munch cursed under his breath. Why couldn't anything be easy? He hoped that Fin would be able to answer his questions, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his partner was about to be as closed lipped as Benson had just been. Deep down the cop in him knew it was because they couldn't tell the victim anything until the suspect had been confirmed, but the selfish part of him felt like they were treating him like a child, and he hated that.

Gathering things up along the way, John headed towards the bathroom. He splashed a little cold water on his face to get the sleep out of his eyes and then walked to his closet. He didn't have enough time to dress properly, assuming that Fin would be there any minute, and he didn't want to answer the door half dressed, so Munch pulled on a black long sleeve shirt and some gray dress pants and packed a couple suits and ties to change later. If they were really in such a hurry, the dress code would have to forgive him this time.

Seconds later the doorbell rang, and he pushed the button to let Fin in. But as Munch suspected, Fin was full of insults and not information. As the drove towards the station Munch felt his frustration rising at a situation he seemed helpless to change. What exactly was going on? And why did he have to evacuate his apartment? Did they have a suspect? The more Munch thought, the more questions came to his mind and he grew impatient to get back to the squad room and demand answers from Cragen.

The matter at hand didn't get any better when John entered the squad room only to find the place practically empty and Cragen having a "closed door" meeting with someone in his office. It also appeared that his partner was nowhere to be found. John glanced hopelessly from Cragen's door to his desk and back again. Satisfied that no one was going to clue him in anytime soon, he gave up for the time being. "I'll just make myself comfortable then!" he said to no one in particular as he picked up his bag and headed towards the bunkroom.

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After about 30 min. Stabler and Benson had bounded out of Cragen's office and out the door, stopping briefly only to say hello and good-bye to the confused detective. Munch had been sitting at his desk, reorganizing files that he had spent the night going through. The mix of exhaustion and frustration was starting to really upset him, so there was some slight relief when Cragen called him into the office.

"Will you PLEASE tell me what's going on now?" Munch started in.

"John, calm down and I'll explain what I can," Cragen walked around and sat on the corner of his desk, motioning John to take a seat. "Now, you should know a few things…"

"No, I want to know everything!" John interrupted. The determination on his face caused Cragen to let out a sigh.

"Fine, but I don't want you to do anything stupid. Actually I don't want you to do anything at all just yet. First off I should tell you that we have a suspect and Stabler and Benson are off searching his place as we speak."

"Who…" started John but Cragen cut him off.

"I'm not going there yet, not until we're absolutely sure. They're searching his place, but he hasn't been caught yet. But we have caught his cohort in Baltimore."

John took a moment to let it all sink in. "So what you're telling me is some guy working here in New York has been sending these letters to Baltimore where some other guy has been sending them back to me, kinda a complicated way to send a letter isn't it?"

There was a moment of silence as John rolled this information around in his brain. When Benson and Stabler took him home everyone still was clueless, and today they had a suspect, an accompliss and they were searching the guy's home. What had changed in the last couple of hours? Munch played back the events of the morning in his mind. They had taken him home, he had gotten his mail, they walked upstairs, and then it hit him.

"Its my neighbor, isn't it?" Munch asked.

"What?" Cragen asked out of surprise.

"This morning, my neighbor came downstairs as Benson and Stabler were taking me home, and when he bumped into Benson, he dropped a large envelope. That's how you found they guy in Baltimore, isn't it? That's why you got me back out of my apartment. You suspect him."

"How the hell did you figure that out?" asked an astonished Cragen.

"Hey I've been a detective for over 25 years. I used my amazing deductive skills and figured it out!" said Munch.

"Okay, fine, yes. But we don't know the why. Nor do we have any hard proof or evidence, nor do we know where the guy is, he hasn't come back home, and he didn't go into work today."

"I'm going to go help," started Munch, but Cragen cut him off.

"No, you are going to sit here, having you out there is a danger to yourself and the others right now. The Baltimore PD is sending they're suspect up here for questioning, I sent Fin to pick them up. I want you to sit in here and listen in and see if you can't use the deductive reasoning to pick up why this was going on."

Sitting around waiting was not Munch's ideal job while everyone else was out searching for the guy that had shot him, but he had to admit, he was a bit curious about if he knew this accompliss from Baltimore. He was still in Cragen's office, peeping through the closed blinds when Fin led the suspect into one of the questioning rooms.

There were a few suprising things about the person Fin had in custody. First, it was a woman, a petite woman, with short curly blond hair. Second, and most shocking was the fact that Munch knew this woman, as in the biblical sense of "knew."

"Talk about bad family reunions…" exclaimed Munch.

"What do you mean?" asked Cragen.

"That's the fourth ex-missus Munch!"


	11. Past

Author's note: Well folks this it! The last chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed (esp. Georgie, who I believe was the first!) I hopeI continued throughout to give a good representation of Munch. I think the biggest honor I got was when people said that they actually could believe that this was Munch. I've tried to do my research.  
As a disclaimer though, I must admit that I know very little about Billy Lou, only what we see of her from Homicide season 6. Since season 7 doesn't come out on dvd til June, I'm not sure if I captured her as well. Hurry up June and get here! ;>D  
So I hope to write more in the future, if people continue liking what I write. I hope you enjoy this last chapter, it is long, but well worth the read! Til next time! Tschuss!

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Three men stood staring through the one-way window. Of all the people that Munch expected to be brought in from Baltimore, Billy Lou wasn't one of them. Sure, they were divorced, actually annulled, but John took it just as personally. Why he had expected the pairing to last, he wasn't sure. It was a mistake from the beginning. He had hoped that Billy Lou hadn't held any grudges, but now, watching her through the window, he wasn't sure. He just knew he had to found out.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Cragen.

"No," said Munch as he picked up the case folder and walked into the interview room. He surveyed the women quickly. She had her head down, but he could see that it wasn't from guilt, she was scared. He wanted to make her a little more scared. "Well, well, well, Billie Louise Pardine Cushman Petrosky McCoy Munch, I never expected to see you up here in the Big Apple, especially under these circumstances."

At the sound of his voice she looked up, surprised. He could see her shift a little as if she wanted to get up and run into his arms, but resisted the temptation because she wasn't sure what was going on. John felt a twinge of guilt, he had loved this women once, but this wasn't about love, it was about attempted murder, and if she knew what was going on, she'd have to face up to it.

"John! I'm so glad you're here, nobody has told me anything!" cried Billy Lou.

"Do you mean they brought you all the way up here and didn't explain what the charge was?" asked John.

"I was in the bar and two uniforms came in and put me in cuffs and said I was under arrest for the attempted murder of a New York Detective, but I was never in New York till now!"

"You really don't know why you are here?"

Billy Lou shook her head no. John looked at her again, studying her face. He took the envelopes out of the case file. "Billy Lou, do you recognize these envelopes?"

"Why sure, they're part of the practical joke!"

"Practical joke? What joke?"

"The one on you silly."

"You mean the joke that landed me in the hospital with a bullet in my shoulder?" Munch replied. He was getting a bit annoyed until he noticed Billy Lou's demeanor changed totally from a smile to a look of horror and surprise.

"The attempted murder was on you? But John, I would never…" her voice trailed off and she looked as if she wanted to cry. "You've gotta believe me!"

Her reaction was not what he expected, and yet he was relieved. He stood up and moved his chair on her side of the table, sat down, and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He looked into her eyes and knew she was telling the truth. "Tell me what happened, from the beginning."

Billy Lou explained, "A couple months ago this man walked into the bar. We hadn't seen him before, and things have been quiet, but it's not totally unusual to get strangers in a bar. So anyways, he sat down and ordered a drink and we struck up a conversation about Baltimore and the police and normal stuff. Then he asked if I knew any of the detectives that worked across the street. To which I replied that I knew most of the homicide unit because of Lewis and Bayliss and I showed him the picture of you three that we have behind the bar.

Well his eyes got real big and he said he was from New York and if I knew a John Munch, and I said of course, we were married once. And he seemed to get real excited and said that you were friends in New York, and he asked a lot of questions about you. Well by this time we had both had a couple and were kind of giddy, and he asked if I would help play a little practical joke on you. Well I didn't see the harm in it, so I agreed that he would send me the letters and I would send them back to you from different post offices in Baltimore."

"And you didn't know what was in the envelopes?" John asked.

"Didn't open on once, I swear, I thought it was all in good fun!"

"Okay Billy Lou, I believe you." John stood up and walked back into the room where Fin and Cragen stood watching.

"She didn't know that guy scammed her; she's much a victim here as I am," Munch said.

"Do you want to charge her?" questioned Cragen.

"No, let her go. She doesn't need to be a part of this anymore," replied John. Fin put a hand on John's good shoulder and they walked out to do the paperwork.

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An hour or so later, John sat at his desk finishing up the last of the paperwork on Billy Lou. He had returned and explained the whole situation to her and that she was now free to go. She expressed how sorry she was, and then left with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She had a shift at the Waterfront bar that night and she needed to get back to Baltimore. John had let her go, still wondering if he had made all the right choices in life.

Now he sat there cleaning off and reorganizing his desk. He was in the middle of this process when Stabler and Benson came back. They had a slightly victorious look about them. "You get the guy?" asked Fin.

"As good as," replied Benson. "He wasn't there but the evidence in his apartment was incrimination enough."

"You found a weapon?" questioned Fin.

"No, but we found these," said Stabler as he lifted up the evidence bag in his hand. Inside were John's missing glasses.

"Damn!" said Fin.

"I was hoping to get those back soon, now I see I'll have to wait till after trial," said a dejected Munch. He really liked those glasses better than the ones he had on now.

"That's not all," said Benson. "There were also journals he had written about his plot to get at you, along with photos, you must have really pissed this guy off."

"You would think, except I don't think I even knew the guy's name or talked to him till now," the whole thing was puzzling to Munch.

Cragen came out of his office. "Stabler, Benson a word in here please?"

Stabler and Benson headed in. Fin got up from his desk and suggested he run to get something to eat. Munch had forgot when he last ate, so he took his partner up on a free pick up. Fin left to go run to the deli across the street. Munch sat back at his desk and proceeded to read one of the journals left by Stabler and Benson. He was so engrossed in this he barely noticed the stranger who walked into the room until it was too late.

The first thing he did notice was the cool metal of the man's gun pressed behind his right ear. The sudden contact caused Munch to jump slightly in his chair. The man grabbed Munch's own gun, putting in his pants and then put his left hand on Munch's shoulder causing pain that made John cry out softly.

"Now, now Detective, we don't want to alert anyone else just yet, where's the fun in that?"

Munch couldn't see the man behind him, but knew from the voice that it was his neighbor. John scanned the room quickly, searching for a way to get the attention of the three people in Cragen's office, without risking the anger of the man behind him. This man had to be in a desperate situation to walk into a police station with a weapon and take a hostage. John didn't want to make the man nervous, he didn't think he'd live through another shooting.

At that moment, Fin walked back into the squad room. "I forgot my wallet!" he said, "how dumb can I…" his voice trailed off when he realized what he had walked into.

The man took his left arm and forced Munch out of his chair, the gun digging into the skin behind his ear, and wheeled them both around to face Fin.

"Son of a bitch!" cried Fin, unholstering his own gun. Fin's cry alerted the other three and they all came running out, weapons up. The man behind John tensed up and backed them both up against the coffee table. He was causing Munch some serious physical pain, but John gritted his teeth. At least if he was still feeling, he was still alive.

"Drop your weapon!" Benson screamed.

Cragen was close behind. "Let him go! This doesn't have to go down like this."

"Oh but it does, " the man replied. "You see for what this man did to me, we both deserve to die."

"What did he do?" asked Stabler. Munch knew that if they could keep the man talking long enough, the better the situation might get.

"Don't you see? My wife left me because of him!" the man yelled.

"They were having an affair?" questioned Cragen obviously confused. Munch was as well, he couldn't even remember what the wife looked like, let alone if they had had a conversation.

"I should be so lucky," the man spat back. "an affair would've been easy. But no, she was such a nag. 'Why can't you be more like Det. Munch? Det. Munch is such a gentleman. Det. Munch wouldn't forget to take out the trash. He can hold a steady job, what's wrong with you?' I'm so sick of hearing what a saint Det. Munch is! I wanted him to suffer like I did. He has to pay!"

John could hear the click of the safety being pulled back on the man's gun. He closed his eyes and braced himself for what would be his last moments on earth.

"Wait!" called Cragen. "Think about it, what are you going to do? Shoot a man in a police station, you'll never get away!"

There was a short pause, and then the pressure of the gun against Munch's head was released. John opened his eyes to see out of the corners what the man was doing.

"You're right," he said and raised the gun to his own head.

"No!" John screamed as he reached around and pulled back the man's arm, just as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew over their heads and into the wall above. The force of the gun and the shock of the noise caused both men to fall to the ground. John grabbed the gun and chucked it across the room. Benson and Stabler reached the man, forcing him on his stomach and cuffing him. "You are under arrest for the attempted murder of John Munch. You have the right to remain silent…" They took the man away.

John still lay on his back, breathing heavily, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Fin and Cragen rushed to his side and hit the floor.

"I'm alright," John said. "I'm finally alright."

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In a quiet pub, in a corner booth, far away from the station house, from work, sat John Munch with two of his friends from long ago. They had come up with Billy Lou, but now that it was over, they had sent her back alone and had stayed to have a drink with their former coworker. Kay Howard sat next to John, Meldrick Lewis across from them. They talked about former cases, former partners, about the good and bad of the job.

"We still miss you in homicide, man," said Lewis, "And more importantly, I miss you at the bar, you were always an impressive presence at the bar."

Munch looked at him skeptically. "We're not doing well at the bar, are we?"

"Just barely in the black," admitted Lewis.

"Seriously John," said Kay, "Did you ever think about coming back to Baltimore? You're experience would be helpful."

"No way, I belong here. There's too much crap that I left behind there, I can't go back," replied Munch.

"Keep working like this Munchkin, and there'll be too much crap here too, then where are you going to run?" asked Lewis.

"Let's not worry about this now, huh? We came here to cheer you up, not depress you more," Kay said, stopping the line of conversation, "That reminds me, I have something for you John." She reached down and pulled a small charm on a chain out of her pocket. "You should have this, it was Beau's, but it belongs to you now." She carefully put the object in John's hand.

Munch looked down and recognized the charm that Stan had given Beau and Kay after they had been shot together. "I can't take this, Stan wouldn't want me to have it, he didn't give me one in the first place."

"Stan ordered me to give this to you! Look nobody realized that you were much a victim of our shooting as we were. It wasn't till after that sniper scare that I realized what that jerk had done to you, and it probably wasn't easy to heal from, mental wounds are harder than physical wounds. After Beau's death, I kept this and now we all want you to have it," explained Kay.

"Not Stan," Munch replied bitterly.

"Are you kidding me!" said Lewis, "It took half of Baltimore to restrain Stan from getting on the next train when we found out you had been shot. He wanted to be here with you but his doctor's wouldn't let him. He threw the biggest hissy fit and almost tore the bar apart!"

"Stan? Really?" questioned Munch, he was starting to feel a bit better.

"The big man himself," answered Lewis.

"Take it John, you deserve it. I'm sorry you had to get shot for us to give it to you," said Kay.

"Thanks Kay," John whispered quietly. He looked down at the charm in his hand; it symbolized the patron saint of cops. A flood of emotions, including relief threatened to sweep over Munch as he looked from the charm to his buddies sitting with him. Their smiles of support were everything he needed, and he let himself do something he hadn't done in a long, long time.

He wept.

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Das Ende


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